Vignette 2 After The Job
by Nora Lou
Summary: One of a series of missing scenes or post-episode vignettes


Vignettes #2: Post- episode "After The Job"

By  
>Nora Lou Wilson<p>

And Rebecca S. Smithey

One of a series of post-episode vignettes or missing scenes we are working on. We hope you enjoy!

Molly McKenna moved through the living room, shutting off lights and closing curtains. It had been a long day, and she was beyond exhaustion. She needed sleep, but she knew she could not face sleeping alone in the bedroom she had shared for so many years with Johnny. _I'll curl up in the guest room down here just for tonight_, she thought.

A wave of guilt washed over her, because she could not deny the feeling of relief that was growing inside her since Johnny's death. He had been sick for so long, and that illness had taken another kind of toll on the rest of the family. That morning, out of sheer habit, she had dressed and started out to the hospital when she remembered that she had no reason to go there anymore. She was relieved that the struggle was over, and it made her feel terrible, like it diminished her love for John in some way.

She had turned and was walking down the hall to the guest bedroom when she heard the sound of someone moving around the kitchen at the rear of the house. A few hours ago, the house had been full of people after the funeral, but everyone should have left long ago.

As she walked back through the house toward the kitchen, her heart thumping in fright, she stopped and quietly opened a closet door. She wrapped her hand around the baseball bat leaning against the closet's front wall. John had made sure she knew how to use a gun to protect herself, but she had never grown comfortable using a handgun. Gripping the bat, she moved toward the kitchen.

Lights were definitely on in there, and someone was moving around in the room. She knew that burglars tended to target homes where a death had occurred. But if this was a robbery, they should have struck hours ago, while everyone was still at the cemetery. But, you never knew…

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen. Holding the bat out in front of her, she screamed "GET THE HELL OUTTA…" her voice broke off in mid-scream as she took everything in.

Frank Reagan stood at her kitchen sink. His uniform jacket was draped over a chair; his once crisp white shirt was untucked and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A dish towel was draped over one shoulder.

"Frank? What are you doing here?" She remembered seeing him earlier, mingling with the other mourners, sharing stories about John, and lending his off-key bass voice to the obligatory singing of "Danny Boy". But she thought he would have left when everyone else did.

"Hey, Molly…I'm sorry I frightened you." He glanced at the baseball bat dangling from her fingers. She set it hurriedly on the sideboard. "I just didn't want you to have to face cleaning up all those dishes in the morning," he explained.

"You didn't have to do.."

He waved her off.

"Yeah, Molly…I did…" he said. He reached into the dishwasher, pulled out two freshly cleaned mugs and set them on the counter. "How about some tea?"

She sat down at her kitchen table and watched him fix two steaming mugs of tea. The fragrant tea leaves seemed to fill the kitchen with a clean, warm smell. He handed one of the mugs to her and took the seat facing her.

"Molly, I want to say something to you," he began "and I need you to hear me out."

She nodded. "Okay, Frank."

"I wasn't there for John like I should have been – like he would have been there for me if the tables had been turned." He sipped at the tea, and she saw the regret clearly reflected in his eyes. "I want you to know how sorry I am for not being here for you…and your girls…"

She reached out and touched his arm. "There's nothing to apologize for, Frank."

"I'd like to make it up to you…if you would let me…I'd like to help you – and the girls – from now on…any way I can. Will you do that for me?"

"That would be very nice, Frank – I know John would have been pleased." A sad smile played on her lips for a moment. "You were always his favorite partner – and he was very proud when you became Commissioner." She leaned in a little closer. "I think he was a little jealous, too," she confided.

He nodded. "We liked competing with each other," he said. "It brought out the best in both of us."

They drank their tea, and Molly watched as Frank finished cleaning up her kitchen. He finally pulled his uniform coat on and let her walk him to her front door. A glistening black SUV was parked on the street, and she realized that his detail had waited for him all this time.

He hugged her quickly. "I'll see you soon," he promised, then turned and walked to the curb. A member of his detail appeared and opened the rear door for him. He climbed inside and was gone.

A few short weeks later, as spring finally began to arrive, Molly McKenna was jarred awake early one Saturday morning as her neighbors fired up their lawn mower. When she looked out the guest bedroom window, she was startled to see Frank Reagan in her front yard. He was propelling the largest lawn mower she had ever seen in her life – and it certainly had not come from their garage.

She pulled on jeans and a blouse, then quickly went outside. "Frank! What on earth - ?"

He shut the mower's engine off and smiled down at her. "I remember how hard it was for you to get John to do yard work," he explained, "and your mower is…well…a piece of crap, so I brought you another one."

"Frank, you really didn't…" At the look in his eyes, she let her voice drift off. _I should not have been so surprised to find him here…_Over the last few weeks since John's death, Frank Reagan had become a reliable source of help for her.

_And not just me…_When her eldest daughter's car had broken down on the BQE, uniforms in an RMP had assisted her until the tow truck had arrived. When she went back into the repair shop at the end of the week to pick up her car, the repair bill had been paid and an AAA membership card was lying on the dashboard. Someone who looked remarkably like the NYPD Commissioner had come by in a black SUV, paid the bill and left the card.

Her younger daughter, a kindergarten teacher in Queens, had arrived at school one Monday morning and found three large boxes of school supplies outside her classroom door. Again, Frank Reagan appeared to be the culprit.


End file.
